


Team, Teen Witness

by AGDoren



Series: Team, Teen Witness [1]
Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Horror, Sleepy Holloween, The Weeping Lady
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 06:14:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2537207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AGDoren/pseuds/AGDoren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Sleepy Holloween Week day 6- Highschool/AU, prompt: prompt Ichabbie, Ichabod takes Abbie on their first date together and Ichabod thinks it’s a bright idea to go to a spooky haunted house thinking he can impress Abbie.. only to find he’s the one in the need of protecting.</p><p>In which Abbie is a Witness and a bad ass, Ichabod is tongue tied, Lori Mills is alive, and the Weeping Lady doesn't kill women.</p><p>So I'm not quite writing to the prompt, sorry, not sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Team, Teen Witness

"Who is it?" The voice came through the door, not Abbie, her sister perhaps.

"Crane!" He called. "I'm here for Abbie."

"Okay."

He heard more shouting and then a muffled conversation.

_"Who is it?"_

_"Some skinny, white dude."_

_"What?"_

The door opened a moment later and her customary frowned turned into a smile upon sighting him.

"Crane?"

There was another shout from somewhere in the house and she grimaced stepping onto the porch.

"Just some company mom." Abbie called over her shoulder. "I'll be back."

"Better not be a boy!"

"Come on," Abbie grabbed his arm and tugged him forward at a jog.

There was more muffled shouting and Ichabod looked back over his shoulder. No one came out of the house after them. But Ichabod looked again at the house. The yard was overgrown with weeds, the siding on the second story needed new paint, and some of the windows were hung with blankets instead of curtains. He thought about what the other boys in school had said, his reason for coming to her this afternoon.

They jogged to the street and then the end of the block.

When she felt that they were sufficiently far from her house Abbie stopped. Looked back at her house and gave her her mom double middles, while he stood there gasping for breath.

"You're out of shape," she said easily before chuckling. "Let's walk it off, its not good to sprint and then just stand around."

She grabbed his arm again, this time her hand settled on his wrist and he marveled at its warmth and softness. Ichabod let her pull him forward. Walking behind her his eyes traveled downward of their own accord and even in baggie jeans and a hoodie, his eyes could follow her curves.

_"Abbie Mills, fucking crazy ones are always hot!" "Fine face, great tits, and ass, but cray completely cray!"_

Usually he ignored the guys who talked like that about girls, reduced them in that way, and they tended to ignore him. But he'd been telling a friend earlier that day about how he'd asked Abbie out and all the guys the locker room had butted in to tell him what a bad idea it was.

_"She beat-up a teacher!" "Her mom is possessed."_

It sounded stupid, but the more he learned about her the more he started to believe them. Everyone had been in agreement on what happened. She'd shown up at the Bronze and beat-up a teacher. No one could figure out why she hadn't been expelled yet.

She squeezed his wrist and he looked up just in time to meet her eyes. Warmth flushed through him. She smiled then and he couldn't help, but smile back. Had she seen him?

"You're awfully quiet."

"Ugh-ugh…" He stuttered completely unable to form words, which was ridiculous, because he was never at a loss for words.

"You're cute," she said cocking her head to one side and winking at him.

He was red now, he was definitely red. Her smile widened and she dropped his wrist tucking her hands into her back pockets before continuing on. He stood there brain digesting the fact that she had called him cute, and trying and failing miserably not to stare at her butt. She turned the corner into the park and his brain became unstuck then finally. Ichabod jogged after her.

He found her sitting on one of the swings and settled on the swing beside her, not sure what to say or do. His purpose in coming to see her nearly forgotten.

"How do you like America so far?"

He shrugged.

"Its all right, I suppose."

"Well I'm glad you came by," Abbie rolled her eyes. I needed to get out of there."

"Is your mom always like that," he asked, reason for stopping by suddenly returning to him.

"Things have been hard on her since dad left, I used to be able to help out," she looked away now, fingers fidgeting with the hem of her over-long sleeves. "I've been too busy lately and," she looked back him worry evident in her expression. "Something's changed with her."

The happiness that had been in her expression since she'd seen him on his porch faded, and he felt a sad little twang around his heart.

"Forget about her," she said getting to her feet. "What's up with you, Crane?"

"Me?" He knew why he had come by, but suddenly he didn't want to break his date with her. He wanted to her to close her slim little fingers around his wrist again, he wanted her to keep smiling at him.

"Yeah, what brought by?" The half-smile came back and she bit her lip.

"Oh- oh well you weren't in school and uh I have something for you."

Ichabod fished in his bag and produced a beautiful illustrated copy of Paradise Lost. He'd grabbed it that morning before the other guys had scared him.

"The way you talked you talked about Job suffering for God, well, it made think about Milton, and I didn't know if you'd read it, but here."

He handed her the book and she stared down at it before opening it.

"So many people condemn Adam and Eve for the first sin, but others think it was all a part of God's divine plan."

She closed the book carefully and looked up at him. The warmth and happiness had faded from her face her and she looked at him as if she were looking across an unbridgeable gulf.

"You believe God has a plan?"

"Yes,perhaps, I don't know-" he said confusion growing.  _Was she angry?_

She snorted, "Well God  does have a plan and its a shitty plans."

She handed the book back to him, hitting him in the chest with it before walking away.

"Abbie? What?" Again he followed her. "What you-?"

 She rounded on him then, eyes burning with righteous indignation.

"Fuck God and his damned plans, that's right fuck 'em!"

"Abbie I don't-"

Then she looked up to the sky, pointing her finger. "Fuck your plans!" She turned her attention and wrath back to him. "Fuck you and fuck that book, stay away from me."

Stunned he stared at her.

"But Abagail, I don't-" he started toward her.

 "Stay the hell!" It came out in a shriek and everyone in the park seemed to stop what they were doing to stare at them.

She walked away then and he let her go. Confused and broken hearted and Ichabod turned and headed home.

That night in his dreams he heard the most heartbroken wailing and someone was pulling him down, down into the depths of icy cold water. But it wasn't normal water, it was thick like liquid glass might be and so very cold. She, it was a woman would hold him there until he had to breath,she had done it before, generation after generation, he knew this somehow. Ichabod knew that when he open his mouth to gasp for air thick, icy water would fill his lungs, drowning him and quenching out all the heat of his life. And yet he must inevitably do just that, he had to breathe-

And then Abbie Mills was swimming toward him, cutting through the icy water like a heated steaming blade.

******  
Staying away from Abigail Mills was easier said than done, even though she skipped the class they shared. She showed up at three of the stores he went to over the next week and he ran into her at the library twice. He even ran into her at the old church.

He did his best not to look at or think about her, but he couldn't help it. Not with her face everywhere all of a sudden, not with her showing up in his dreams like some sort of superhero.

When he had the misfortune to land in detention and find her there he found himself just a bit angry with her.

"You may find this difficult to believe, but I am not stalking you!"

Ichabod glared at her and when she just looked at him biting her lower lip he went to the desk furthest from her hers. He was just going to do his time in detention and get out of here.

Irritated he put his head down on the desk.

The teacher had confiscated his cell phone at the door. He could do his homework, but he was feeling too contrary for that, and besides he hadn't been sleeping well.

Before long he dozed off, and again he was dreaming. He wasn't himself in this dream.

_He was his great-great grandfather, Ichabod the one he'd been named for, the one who disappeared. He had something very important to do. But before he could complete his mission Mary was drowning him._

He started awake and saw Abbie Mills standing over him, one hand extended.

"Are you okay Crane?"

For a confused moment he was uncertain as to whether he was awake or still dreaming?

"Are you okay? You were having a nightmare- I think?"

He looked around. At the florescent lights, the muted green wall paint, Abbie Mills' wide dark eyes, her brow creased with worry.

_He was in detention, at school._

"I am quite well Ms. Mills, thank you," he said mustering the most calm and polite exterior he could manage.

"Good," she dipped her head in a slight nod and in then surprised him by sitting at the desk next to him.  
He pulled out Jane Erye and turned away from her. He didn't have his phone, but at least he had a book to read. Except he couldn't concentrate. He could feel Abbie's eyes on him, almost imagine her contemplative expression.

"What" He turned in his seat to face her. "Did I cry out too loudly in my sleep?"

Regret flashed across her face, but then resolve replaced it.

"No Crane, its just that the floor underneath you is all wet."

"What?"

Ichabod looked down and nearly leapt out of his seat, heart pounding, stomach sour and twisting.

He had a photographic memory, which wasn't all that impressive these days with everyone having smart phones. But that meant that he knew with absolute certainty, that the puddle of water under his feet had not been there when he sat down.


End file.
